


And the Sky to Sleep Under

by PR Zed (przed)



Category: Tombstone (1993)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:13:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/przed/pseuds/PR%20Zed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of an ambush, Wyatt Earp reflects on his friendship, and more, with Doc Holliday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Sky to Sleep Under

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat/gifts).



"Hold still Doc, would ya?"

"I'm afraid I can't oblige, Wyatt."

"Of all the stupid, stubborn, sons of bitches..." I trailed off, not knowing what else to say, even as I wrapped Doc tighter in a blanket.

It was bad enough he had to go and get himself shot, but did he have to fall into a stream too? Especially one that was just this side of frozen? The bullet wound wasn't bad, or it wouldn't be if I could get it cleaned up. But the dunk in cold water was going to kill him if I couldn't get him warmed up. Fast. And I couldn't get him warm and patched up if I didn't get him someplace safe first.

Sometimes I think fate sent Doc to torment me, I honestly do.

I still remember the first time I met him. In Fort Griffin, it was. John Shannsey introduced us, after telling me there was a fella I should meet. Told me I'd like him. When I first set eyes on Doc, dealing at that faro table, I couldn't fathom what Shannsey saw in the man. All I could see was a lunger, with the shadowed eyes and grey skin that consumptives get when they're not long for this world. He looked too weak to survive in the west, but I soon found out that his looks were deceiving.

It only took a few hands of faro to realize how sharp Doc was. I reckon I'm a good judge of men, and he was one of the smartest I've met. A few more hands and I realized he was tougher than he'd seemed. He caught a cowboy at the table cheating and called him on it. The cowboy wouldn't back down. He just got louder and louder, probably thinking he could intimidate Doc. I put my hand on my gun belt, ready to step in if Doc needed any help.

He didn't.

One second he was looking at the cowboy with an unhurried smile, the next he drew his gun so fast I hadn't even seen him start.

If his actions surprised me, they terrified the cowboy. The stupid bastard shut up and was out of that saloon before anyone else could say a word. Once he was gone, Doc re-holstered his gun, took a slow sip of whisky, and shuffled the deck as if nothing had happened..

Then he caught me looking at him and gave me a wink.

Just like that we were friends.

"If I get you on your horse, are you gonna stay on it?"

Doc nodded, but he was shaking so hard I didn't believe him for a second. If I put him on his horse, he was going to be on the ground in less than a minute, and both of us knew it.

I looked around, but there was nothing but prairie for miles. No shelter to be found, from either the elements or our enemies. There was a cabin I knew of, maybe three hours ride, but if we didn't get there, and fast, the cold would kill Doc. And Behan and what was left of the Cowboys would kill both of us even faster if they caught us.

Damnable luck, that's what it was.

It wouldn't be so bad if we weren't alone. But Texas Jack, Creek Johnson and McMasters had gone off yesterday morning, chasing a bunch of those murderous bastards that had broken off from the main group we'd been chasing. Seemed a good idea at the time, but then we'd been ambushed and Doc had been shot.

Well, there was nothing for it.

I grabbed the reins of Doc's horse and tied them to my saddle horn. Then I manhandled Doc onto my saddle and swung up behind him. I held him close against me and spurred my horse on. The poor nag was overdue for a rest, but none of us could stop until we reached that cabin. Until I'd saved Doc's life.

After all, I owed him. Doc's saved my life more than once.

The first time was in Dodge City.

It had been another bar, another card game, another bunch of dumb cowboys who didn't know when to quit. They had me outnumbered, and they weren't above using their guns. But Doc found out what was going on, and came in through the back way. He had a shotgun and his pistols, and he took on those cowboys as if the fight was his own. Seems he liked me as much as I liked him.

We celebrated our survival by getting drunk. Not something I do often, not like Doc. But I did it that night. And it was good. I felt freer than I had in a dog's age. I felt like I could tell Doc anything, like I could do anything and he'd accept me.

Maybe that's when it started.

"You better stay with me, you hear?" With my arms wrapped around him, I could feel Doc's breath rattling in his chest. I could feel the shivering that the blankets I'd wrapped him in hadn't been able to stop.

"I don't know what you're concerned about, Wyatt." Doc was clearly trying for his usual unconcerned tone, but it wasn't at all convincing. Not with his teeth chattering together. Not when the wheeze of his lungs was louder than his voice. Not when there was already blood on his lips.

"I'll just bet you don't, Doc." I didn't say any more, just yanked out his handkerchief and wiped the scarlet off his mouth. We don't talk about it, the consumption that's going to kill him some day, and probably sooner than later. Hell, if I ever did bring it up, he'd just point out it was far more likely some gambler was going to fill him with lead long before the disease destroyed the last of his lungs.

Doc's the best friend I've ever had, but we weren't friends because we talked. We were friends because we didn't have to. Because we both knew what was important. We both knew how we felt.

That's the way it worked for us. Always has, always will.

And the most important thing between us, the thing that started after Dodge City, is something we'll never talk about. Not ever.

It was before Tombstone, before I met Mattie, a time when Kate had disappeared on Doc, as she periodically does. I don't rightly know why Doc stays with that woman, but like I said, we don't talk.

Doc had some poker money, and I had some cash left from wearing a badge in Dodge. Neither of us wanted to stay in Dodge, or any other frontier town. I'm sure Doc had his own reasons, but I was sick of it all. Sick of being called out by drovers with something to prove. Sick of having to watch my back. I just wanted some time with nothing but my horse, a bedroll, and the sky to sleep under. Not quite Doc's idea of comfort, I'm sure, but he came with me anyway.

It was the most perfect few weeks I've ever had.

We lived on the supplies we carried with us and what game we could shoot. The weather brought nothing but warmth and sunshine. We spent the days riding or walking or hunting. The nights we spent under skies so full of stars I thought we'd drown in them.

Then there was the night when the wind came up, and the temperature dropped, and we had to huddle together to escape the cold. The night when I found that Doc could make me laugh with more than just his jokes. The night when I discovered what it's like to sleep in the arms of the one person you trust most in the world.

"There's the cabin, Doc." I was never more happy to see a tumbledown shack in my entire life.

"None too soon," he said, so quietly that I almost couldn't hear him.

I got him off the horse, and into the cabin. There wasn't a bed, but I put him on the floor in front of the ancient potbellied stove, and got a fire going. Then I tore his shirt--"You should have better respect for fine linen," Doc told me--and stitched up that hole in his arm. I sometimes think I've had more practice sewing up bullet wounds than torn shirts.

Doc suffered through my rough doctoring with a thin-lipped silence, broken only with the occasional cough.

We were both exhausted by the time I was done. Doc drifted off into an unquiet sleep. I sat in the one remaining chair in that shack, watching over him, my gun ready in case the Cowboys found our trail.

Those few weeks on the prairie couldn't last, of course. The towns were where we both made our money, after all. Kate went back to Doc; I met and married Mattie. We drifted through each other's lives, always aware of how important the other was, but unable to say how or why.

I was never so happy as when Doc arrived in Tombstone. And when things heated up with the Cowboys and the Clantons, I'm ashamed to say I lived more in fear of him dying than my brothers. I hoped Morgan forgave me from whichever place he'd ended up: heaven, hell, or the unspeakable void.

Sitting vigil with him now, I could see how little of his life the disease had left Doc. Even if he dodged all the bullets the Cowboys could shoot at him, the consumption was coming for him soon. The thought of the world without him in it grieved me more than I could say.

"Wyatt?"

"Yes, Doc."

"I'm glad it's you with me."

"Me too, Doc."

No, we don't talk much. Like I said, we don't have to.


End file.
